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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24894031">you're my favourite dream</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bugspray/pseuds/bugspray'>bugspray</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Protective Anakin Skywalker, Sith Padmé Amidala, anakin is very obviously shmi's son, no betas we die like men, sith! padmé and jedi! anakin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:42:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>437</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24894031</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bugspray/pseuds/bugspray</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The back of his hand brushed hers. Then a touch—his knees by hers—barely close but infinitely closer. It wasn’t surrender—no—it was acknowledgement. The balance was too fragile to disrupt. A breath too close and he’d realize she found meaning in the meaningless. </p>
<p>But if she looked close enough... his eyes were blue. They'd always been blue. Cold. Unforgiving. But today... today they were soft. </p>
<p>And Padmé Amidala had half a mind to believe they were soft for her. </p>
<p>( or, a sith tries to understand what it means to be loved. )</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you're my favourite dream</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is just a random snippet of an AU i came up with because i'm angsty and there isn't enough soft anakin out there. padmé and anakin are both meant to be around 19 in this- padmé is a sith and anakin is a jedi, both are stranded on tatooine, and both hate each other.<br/>..for now.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Padmé’s hair was sloppy and clung to her cheeks like webs and cracks running through stone. If it were another time, another person, she would’ve blushed at how ridiculous she looked. Now, all she could do was let the coolness of Tatooine’s setting sun dry her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Another person</em>…</p>
<p>The thought wouldn't leave her. Another person would’ve been kind, deserving. Another person wouldn't have to save themselves; someone would love them enough to pull them out of the water. Padmé had saved herself too many times. There was an uncertainty in only having yourself to depend on. It required a confidence Padmé wasn't sure she had.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p><em>…Someone</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Anakin emerged from the hut in dry clothes, the only sign that he’d been thrown in the ocean mere moments ago being his damp hair. Rose dusted his cheeks and across his nose too, and there were still water droplets caught on his eyelashes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re still wet.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Padmé noted the towel draped across his shoulders. He slid it off and threw it at her.</p>
<p>If she looked close enough, his eyes were blue. His eyes had always been blue. It’s not like she hadn’t noticed before—they were hard to ignore. But today… they were warmer. His face was still set in hard lines; he wasn't smiling. Not in his eyes or in his cheeks. But his eyes…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Anakin dropped down beside her. The back of his hand brushed hers and then a touch—his knees by hers—barely close but infinitely <em>closer</em>. It was peace. It wasn’t surrender—no—it was acknowledgement. Padmé was afraid to let herself lean into it. It was too fragile of a balance to disrupt. A breath too close and he’d realise she found meaning in the meaningless. So, she stared at the backs of his hands – its delicate slopes and soft skin. Unmarred like hers, not ungraceful like hers. Padmé was fast, she was ruthless, but Anakin was far better at wielding his saber than she was. And yet, his hands didn't show the strain of the weapon.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you cold?” Anakin held his hand out. “It’s warmer inside.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She shouldn't let herself have this. His eyes had changed. <em>They</em> had changed. But she was undeserving of it. She was undeserving of being looked at with anything but loathing and despise. But it was difficult not to <em>want</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Padmé could want forever. She took his hand, letting him lift her up, and let herself <em>have</em> for just one moment. If she could have the feeling of his hand, his skin, his warmth, for just one moment—it would be easier to let it go.</p>
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